


Biting Down

by Atumun15



Series: Pure Heroin [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Gangs, Kind of angsty, M/M, Woojin is a whipped man, but hes also a cowardly man, but more on the fluffy side, chans just trying to live his life, gets attached, lots of songs, lowkey preparing you for the next part of this series, minho patches woojin up, night life, singer - Freeform, street fighter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atumun15/pseuds/Atumun15
Summary: Biting down had never felt better.





	Biting Down

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> This is a start of a new series called "Pure Heroin" I hope you enjoy :)

**August of 2021**

 

The mere idea of being undefeated was toxic, almost as toxic as the idea of having complete and utter power. Ideas, granted, were what sent the world forward. It was the thoughts and ideas of brains that put society where it is now, but much like everything, there were malicious, bad fruits amongst the good ones. And as good as Kim Woojin was at heart, deep down in his very soul, he was vulnerable to the toxicity just as anyone else would be. It can’t be said that he strutted around like he owned the world like Chan or Changbin did sometimes, but it can be said that Woojin was in fact cocky. His pride was big, but he still had his manners. 

 

So, to put it in a way that’s understandable, Woojin was a hit or miss. You either liked him or you didn’t. There was no gray area when it came to Kim Woojin, the undefeated within the bloody, merciless ring of the underground streets and gangs. In fact, there were many times that Woojin’s opponents held great respect for him, so much so, that it costed them greatly during the fight. He had only killed one person in the three years he’s been fighting, and it wasn’t something that Woojin necessarily liked remembering as he didn’t lose his temper in the ring often, but when he did, he would no doubt have a lawsuit on his hands if it was professional. 

 

Woojin had already served his two years in the military when he was roped into street fighting. The man had a temper, a destructive one at that, and as soon as he was old enough, he enlisted in the military. The lieutenants were quick to break Woojin of his temper and despite how hard and exhausting the whole situation was, Woojin felt a lot different when he arrived back in Seoul. He was always an old soul, so it wasn’t as if he had matured greatly, but it’s like there was something missing. Woojin’s temper had practically taken control of everything in his life, but yet, there he was, content, at peace, and missing something in his life that gave him meaning. 

 

That’s when he met Chan. 

 

It had been about midday when he met the younger, silver-haired man. Chan looked like an idol trainee, and in a way, that really set Woojin off. He had no idea what Chan wanted from him and he had grown paranoid during his service time, so it was no surprise when he was painfully cautious around him. Chan seemed to understand that there was something missing in Woojin’s life, and while Woojin hated that he could read him like an open book, he was curious, to say the least. What could this wannabe music producer give Woojin? And perhaps Woojin wished he had never asked that question, but at the same time, he had no doubt that he would have ended up here or dead on the side of the street. 

 

But where was he?

 

Well, to put it plainly, Woojin was apart of a group who dabbled in organized crime and fought for them to earn money and his keep. Woojin was important, yes, but he was not as important as Chan and Changbin were, so tried his best to not push his limits. Maybe that’s why he lived in a nice apartment on the outside of the upper district, comfortable with his food and money income, and content with the people he lives around. Woojin felt safe there, so who was he to open his mouth when Chan decided to call a rather cruel shot? It wasn’t as if he or Chan were doing the dirty work, this wasn’t on Woojin and Chan just gave orders. Their hands were not dirty with blood and death as far as the community was aware. So keep it that way was entirely significant. 

 

It was quiet though, and Woojin didn’t like that. Walking at night had quickly turned from one of his favorite pastimes to something he dreaded. Sure, he could have taken his car, but that was risky as it could draw attention to the arena no one was even supposed to know existed. So, Woojin was forced to suffer in silence. However, he figured he would much rather suffer in silence than being surrounded by gunshots again for more than five minutes at a time. Sometimes, the silence was appreciated, even if it was hated a great deal. Much to his relief, the untraceable phone in his pocket rang out and Woojin buried his bruised knuckles into his clothing to dig it out. “Hello?” His voice was deep, raspy, and intimidating in every way, but the slightly higher pitched tone on the other end sent shivers down his spine. 

 

“Where are you? Your match is in ten minutes!” Chan hissed through the phone and Woojin bit back a snarky retort for the sake of his life. 

 

“I woke up late. I’ll be there soon.” Woojin gruffed into the phone before hanging up on the younger and slipping the device back into his pocket. He knew he’d pay for hanging up on Chan after but at the moment, he didn’t really care. Woojin would put up with it just as he always did and move on with his life. Sure, Chan was scary and entirely unpredictable, but Woojin could handle him, especially on nights as important as this. 

 

Woojin was up against a fighter that had been making a name for himself, a familiar tattoo along his neck symbolizing the same gang that had been giving them far too many issues over the course of the last few months or so. Chan was hoping Woojin would be able to get in that ring and practically beat ‘You can’t outrun us’ into the poor soul he was fighting that night. Woojin couldn’t say he was opposed to the idea, but he knew deep down that it wouldn’t be as easy as throwing a quick few punches to knock whomever this man was out. It was never that simple, that’s just not the way their luck ran. Woojin would figure it out though, he always did. 

 

The same musty smell of sweat, blood, and alcohol wafted along his face the moment Woojin stepped inside the large, underground arena, and his nose scrunched up at the horrid scent. “Hyung! Over here!” Woojin snapped his head around at the familiar gruff voice of Changbin and locked eyes with the shorter, tattooed man. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and one foot rested against the brick behind him; Woojin approached him with hesitance. “Now, now, don’t be like that.” Changbin tutted, grabbing Woojin by the collar and pulling him forward so they were nearly nose to nose. “Hello, hyung.” Woojin was hit with the smell of weed and he broke out into a tiny coughing fit. 

 

“Shit, Changbin. Do you not have gum or some shit?” Woojin snapped and peeled himself away from Changbin so he could have a bit of personal space. Changbin faked a pout at the elder’s rejection as he dug into one of his back pockets and brought out a pack of gum. Woojin didn’t outwardly show his contentment at the sight of Changbin stuffing a thin slat of pale blue mint gum into his mouth, but he was, in fact, happy that the younger was one step closer to not smelling like weed and whiskey. Woojin let out a grunt when Changbin pulled him back in and tried to kiss him, shoving him away with a shake of his head. “Just like the last hundred times, Changbin… no.” This was the only thing besides killing that Woojin really put his foot down on. 

 

If Changbin deflated at the rejection, that was his own business. “One day, hyung.” Changbin started, wagging a finger in the elder’s face with a shit eating grin, “One day, you’re going to see me for who I really am.” Changbin claimed boldly, and Woojin… All Woojin could do was spare a cold laugh. 

 

“And what would that be, Seo?” 

 

Changbin stepped forward, slinging his arms around Woojin’s neck and nudging their noses together. “The man you’re really supposed to be with,” Changbin whispered, feathering a kiss to Woojin’s jaw. The elder sighed and nudged Changbin away. Even if Woojin was interested, they couldn’t do that shit there. It wasn’t safe. 

 

“Where’s Chan?” Woojin completely dodged Changbin’s previous claim, looking anywhere but the younger and internally winced when the raven-haired man huffed. Changbin didn’t even give him an answer, only stormed off with Woojin acting quickly to follow him through the thick crowd of people. Woojin managed to catch Changbin walking through a metal door in the back last minute and darted through the crowd with three, quick steps and four elbows to bodies too close for comfort. 

 

Woojin nodded towards the two men stood at the door and slipped through the small entry they allowed him. Inside was Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung. “Evening.” Woojin greeted all of them and shifted to shut the door and lean against the wall next to it. Everyone muttered out greetings, Hyunjin treating Jisung’s busted lip and bruised knuckles. “Jisung…” The younger glanced up at him, “I thought I told you to stick to making runs.” Woojin’s glare was one that many submitted under within seconds, the mere sight of it causing your blood to run cold and chills to run down his spine. Jisung glanced away shyly, Hyunjin flickering his eyes between the two and when the realization hit anger soon replaced the confusion there previously. 

 

“Wait, what?” Hyunjin hissed, slamming his hands against Jisung’s chest. “You said you had to do it tonight! That Woojin needed you to fill in for one of his fights!” Hyunjin snapped, volume getting progressively louder the more he talked. Jisung flinched at every slam into his chest, turning into a wheezing and coughing mess from the impact. Hyunjin softened the moment Jisung started coughing hoarsely. However, Hyunjin was quick on his feet and stormed out another pair of doors. Jisung let out a sigh and rubbed his palms into his face. 

 

“Go, Jisung. You too Changbin.” Chan muttered, and Jisung was hesitant to follow after Hyunjin but did anyway. Changbin didn’t leave without causing a tiny scene though, grabbing Woojin by the jaw and placing a kiss to his cheek, but Woojin was beyond irritated and batted him away with a growl. Changbin stormed out the door he came through like a small child in search of causing trouble. Woojin began to grumble under his breath about how irritating Changbin was but Chan broke the silence. “Can you stop rejecting him? I don’t think I can handle another one of his pissy episodes because you’re too stubborn to just give in and give him what he wants.” Chan spat, and Woojin was quick to snap his head around towards his leader with cold eyes.

 

Woojin’s jaw locked and Chan internally took some of his guard down. He may have been the leader, but that didn’t make Woojin any less scary. “I’m not going to feed Changbin’s addiction to attention. The only reason he wants me is because he can’t have me.” Woojin snapped, sitting down on the couch next to the chair Chan was lounging around in. The younger, curly-headed leader looked bored out of his mind. “Besides. Even if I was interested, I couldn’t risk that. Not after Felix and Jeongin.” A tense silence fell over them at the reminder of their two, long dead best friends who had gotten into too much trouble and were used against each other. 

 

They try not to think about it too much. 

 

“You’re right.” Woojin was surprised to hear Chan say it, but he knew that one ‘but’ was coming. “But -” He knew it. “We both know that Changbin doesn’t just like you because he can’t have you. He’s had a thing for you since I found you on the street.” Chan pointed out in a matter of fact tone and as much as Woojin wanted to argue it, he knew he couldn’t. “I’d say sit down and genuinely talk to him, but Changbin wouldn’t take it seriously. So… I guess you’re going to have to find someone to get him to really fuck off.” Woojin wasn’t sure how true that was. 

 

“I don’t know…” 

 

Chan let out a sigh. “Changbin is a lot of things, an idiot being one of them, but a homewrecker is not on that list. He’ll back off once you find a girlfriend... “ Chan trailed off with a mischievous smirk, “Or god forbid… a boyfriend!” Chan gasped dramatically, a hand covering his mouth for added effect and Woojin resisted the urge to smack his leader upside the head. Woojin’s sexuality still swayed pretty often. He had been with a few guys and girls before so he wasn’t an amateur by any means, but he wasn’t ever that skilled in the love department. Dating just… wasn’t something his temper allowed in his life. “Come on. You need to get ready for the fight.” 

  
  
  


“If you don’t win this, I’ll kill you.” 

 

A hiss echoed in Woojin’s ear as he tightened the cloth around his knuckles, hands, and wrists. Woojin rolled his eyes at that, he knew Chan was bluffing so left it alone. “You wouldn’t dare, Bang Chan.” Woojin hissed back as he peeled off his shirt, handing it to a waiting Hyunjin. Chan looked as if he was about to argue, but Woojin butted in before he could. “Because you know I would come back to haunt your ass and make sure you go insane.” And that was the end of that. Chan huffed and stuffed Woojin’s mouth guard into his mouth without another word, looking as if he was ready to cuss Woojin out but refrained. Though… perhaps it would help with tonight’s fight. “Cuss me out, Bang.” 

 

“You’re a fucking weak ass bitch, Woojin. You say you could come back and haunt me but your temper would just get in the way before you could get anywhere -” That did it. 

 

Woojin raced into the ring before Chan could even finish, coming face to face with a man slightly taller than him, but not as buff either. The thing with underground fights is that there is no referee. You fight until someone is out cold. So, Woojin was fully prepared for when this man came rushing forward, arms swinging. Woojin didn’t remember much from the fight, just that it was long, bloody, and tiring. His opponent had gotten a good amount of hard hits on him, but Woojin had the upper hand. He always had the upper hand. Faintly, he could hear Chan and Changbin screaming at him to finish the guy off; So, Woojin channeled every last bit of anger within his chest and took this man by the back of the neck and punched him repeatedly in the face until he stumbled to the ground. Woojin couldn’t stop there. He was too angry. 

 

He practically fell to his knees as he straddled his opponent's hips, pinning his hands to the ground and beating his face into the ground beneath. All Woojin could see was blood, the screams, and cheers muffling until Woojin couldn’t hear anything at all. It had taken a firm and loud “WOOJIN!” From the sidelines from none other than Seo Changbin himself. Woojin snapped out of his bloodthirsty, angry littered haze and looked down at the poor soul beneath him. His opponent wasn’t even recognizable anymore, and Woojin surely wasn’t even entirely sure he was still breathing or not. Woojin backed away with slow steps and wide eyes of disbelief. 

 

A pair of hands grabbed at his shoulders as Woojin was dragged out of the ring, the fighter just barely catching sight of a smaller, dainty boy with red hair run up to Woojin’s opponent and slap his cheek lightly. “Jackson? Jackson!” They felt for his pulse. “He’s still breathing!” 

 

Woojin shuddered when he heard the man that came up behind the other mutter under his breath, “not for long…” he was supposed to die either way, and a part of Woojin wished he had just put the man out of his misery instead of giving him up to his leader for a much more painful and slow death. Faintly, over the crowd around them, Woojin heard a gunshot and a muffled cry afterward from behind him. Chan simply squeezed his shoulder with a tighter, almost painful grip as to say ‘Don’t you dare look back. You’re not a coward.’ And Woojin didn’t. 

 

But he wished he had. This was his doing, his fault. He won that fight and he didn’t beat that guy to death so he got shot in the head. He should see the consequences of his actions. 

 

However, the fact of the matter was that this happened far too often for it to affect Woojin anymore, but it did because Woojin was human. In Woojin’s mind, he had just secondhanded taken another life and that just didn’t turn his head in the right direction. But it wasn’t as if Chan ever really gave him the time of day to think about it too much as when they walked through the door, the younger grabbed him by the jaw with a tattooed hand and made sure their eyes were locked. “Stop that.” Chan snapped so harshly that Woojin flinched. “We’ve been over this. They’re not our problem.” It’s not your fault. Woojin gulped audibly and flickered his head in a half nod before pulling away completely. “You should get patched up. You won. Sent a message. Go.” Woojin wasn’t even sure where to go. 

 

“I’ll give you an address to one of Felix’s friends, Eric, and he’ll patch you up. Just say you were a friend of Felix.” Jisung murmured from behind him, Woojin shuddering at the soft, but empty tone of the younger. He never liked it when the younger members were anything but blissful or at the very least, content. Woojin nodded and patted his shoulder, giving Jisung his wrist to allow the younger to write down the address on a blank piece of his skin. Which was rather hard to do considering Woojin liked tattoos just as much as Chan did so his arms were practically covered. “Get going. These seem really bad.” Jisung hushed, fingertips grazing along the cuts on Woojin’s face. The elder flinched back when they ran over a particular one along his temple. 

 

“I’ll go. Just don’t touch it!” Woojin snapped, and stormed away, letting his pain turn to anger by accident. Woojin didn’t mean to, he never did, but Woojin’s pride was far too big for him to consider turning back to apologize so Woojin aggressively slipped his clothes back on his body and left the room without another look towards anyone. Perhaps if he had, someone would have seen the sorrow in his eyes he didn’t even know was there. Eyes were the gateway to the soul and Woojin wasn’t too sure if he knew that gate to his internal thoughts and feelings as much as he should have.  

 

Everything’s kind of hazy after that. The adrenaline high Woojin was experiencing was fading and his head felt like it was spinning, but Woojin managed to keep his focus on the address in hand, and the direction google maps were sending him in. However, once Woojin reached an apartment that looked like it could fall apart at any moment on the off side of town, he grew confused. He wasn’t sure what that last number was anymore so approached the doors with hesitance. He decided to try out room 203, knocking lightly In case it was the wrong room and not wanting to disturb them too much. 

 

Woojin felt his head spin even more when a man, slightly younger than Woojin himself, opened the door with an oversized white t-shirt, tight black boxers, messy bed hair, and innocent eyes. The man, despite his swollen cheeks and puffy eyes, was beautiful and Woojin never felt more uncomfortable with himself just then. “Uh.. hi, are you Eric?” Woojin uttered, voice coming out as gravely as the tiny rocks he had to walk on to get up here. The man cocked his head to the side with a small pout and a shake of his head; Woojin swore his heart didn’t skip even the tiniest bit at the sight. Even if it wasn’t true. 

 

“No, I’m afraid I’m not that cute.” The man croaked sleepily, And Woojin nodded and moved to go to the next door while uttering out apologies. However, before he could even fully turn towards Eric’s door, the man from before spoke up without even thinking properly. “I’m afraid that Eric isn’t home right now either. Said he was going out of town for a few days I think.” The man informed, tone a lot lower than it had been before, and Woojin felt chills go down his spine. Sure, he would never admit it, but Woojin could listen to this man talk for hours… as long as he had something interesting to say of course. 

 

What had gotten into him? 

 

“Shit.” 

 

“Why do you need him?” 

 

Woojin flickered his eyes up, staring this man in the eyes until he backed down. But alas… he never quite did. The stranger simply quirked an eyebrow up in anticipation and Woojin sighed. With a wild gesture to his face and the cuts along it, the man seemed to finally understand and gave Woojin a weary once over. “Well… maybe I can help. I went to Med school for two years and you already woke me up. So let’s not waste any more time hm?” Woojin couldn’t argue with that logic, especially when the stranger was so inviting. So, the elder followed him into his apartment, guard up but shoulders relaxed. He was ready to act at any point if this suddenly became shady, but Woojin didn’t want to intimidate whomever this person was.  

 

They were around the same height, but the other was a lot daintier than Woojin, having a dancer’s physique rather than a fighter’s. Everything seemed to shift into a dreamlike haze the minute Woojin stepped inside the other’s clutter infested apartment, the sirens outside becoming muffled and Woojin’s vision becoming tunneled on the retreating back of the stranger ahead. “My name is Minho, by the way.” Minho hushed once they reached a door at the end of the hallway, pushing it open and guiding Woojin into the bathroom. Minho sat Woojin down onto the toilet lid so he could have better access to his face, digging through his mirror compartment to find the right meds and supplies he needed in the process. “Well don’t keep me in suspense.” Woojin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Your name…?” 

 

Oh. “Woojin.” The elder finally uttered out, receiving a small look from Minho as he unscrewed the cap on a bottle of alcohol. 

 

“Cute.” And that was the last thing Minho said before he placed an alcohol-soaked q-tip to a cut on Woojin’s lip and a hiss echoed off of the walls. In fact, a lot of hisses and grunts echoed off of the walls after that, and Woojin wished this hadn’t been a cute stranger fixing him up because it just made it even more embarrassing. Minho must have noticed Woojin’s sudden undying effort to hold back his vulnerability because he stopped suddenly and glared down at the elder. “It is far too early in the morning for you to be making that much effort to hold back your groans.”  _ You can trust me, idiot _ . Woojin only lets a wince slip out when Minho applied too much pressure onto a forming bruise along his jaw. That seemed to be good enough for Minho as he left it alone after that. 

 

“Are we done?” Woojin murmured when Minho stepped away, putting away all the supplies he had pulled out. Minho hummed in confirmation and Woojin let out a sigh of relief. That seemed to rub Minho the wrong way as he snapped his head up with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

 

“Am I really that insufferable?” 

 

Woojin’s relieved expression quickly formed into one of mild terror. “The alcohol was just really painful! It had nothing to do with you -“ God, was Woojin even Woojin anymore? He continued to ramble, oblivious to Minho’s face falling into that of amusement until Minho broke out into giggles that made Woojin’s earshot. 

 

“It’s fine! I’m joking!” Minho manages to choke out through his laughter, looking up at Woojin with glimmering eyes. “Now. Get out of my apartment.” 

  
  
  
  


Anyone else that could have been in Minho’s situation would have had an undying amount of questions and worries. However, Minho was different. Sure he had his thoughts and concerns, but did he voice them? Hell no. This job paid well and he wasn’t about to start asking questions that could get him roped into the gangs in Seoul because he was curious. ‘Curiosity killed the fucking cat’ he would say to anyone who asked him why he didn’t get more information about his job, and it was too true. Too many times had Minho worked with others and have them disappear the next day because they let a question slip. 

 

Minho would not be one of them. No matter how much he dreaded going home. 

 

His days, despite how odd they were, were always relatively the same. Minho was required to work multiple jobs, his hours always the same and the workload harsh and unforgiving. From 9:30 to 4:30, Minho worked at a local bakery as a baker. From 5:15 to 10:15, Minho stood behind the cashier at a conscience store. And from 11 to almost 5 in the morning, Minho did gigs at a fancy club practically dripping with red velvet and gold. So, realistically, Minho didn’t get to rest often and he never appreciated it when the very few hours he did sleep was interrupted, by a stranger no less. 

 

But Minho tried not to think about it too much. Especially since a few days had passed. Get over it Minho. 

 

The familiar clinking of glass against glass echoed faintly as Minho trailed up onto the stage, the man placing himself behind the old school microphone that looked as if it was straight out of the 40’s. In fact, the whole club looked that way, and a part of Minho fell in love with that. He coughed, gathering the attention of the rich folk sat around and offered them all a false, mischievous smile. If Minho were honest, he felt hot. The man had on a sheer, white shirt that just barely revealed what was beneath and black pants made of the same fabric. A cold silver necklace with a singular gem on the end lingered on his exposed chest and dangling earrings hung from his lobes. “Evening, loves.” Minho purred out, swept his eyes over the room, and let his tongue peep out just a bit through his pretty glossed lips. “How are you tonight?” 

 

Minho earned a few “just fines” but when he heard a “good now that you’re here.” A smile broke out onto his lips. 

 

“Johnny, you sneaky bastard.” Minho giggled in the direction of one of his regulars. The elder’s ears turned pink as he looked away from the singer with a hesitant, shy smile. “I’ve got something a bit different tonight… I hope all of you enjoy.” The piano began ringing, and Minho’s honey-like vocals filled the room. 

 

‘There's somethin' in the wind, I can feel it blowin' in

It's comin' in softly on the wings of a bomb

There's somethin' in the wind, I can feel it blowin' in

It's comin' in hotly and it's comin' in strong’

 

Minho was a very peculiar man in many ways. At work, he was serious but helpful, at the club he was flirty and playful, but at home… Minho let the mask slip from his face, and for the first time in a very long time, Minho could he himself without feeling empty around another human. But it scared Minho beyond measure because he wasn’t sure he would ever see this man again. Minho wanted to, of course, but his curiosity peaked with him. Minho couldn’t risk that. 

 

‘Lately, I've been thinkin' it's just someone else's job to care

Who am I to sympathize when no one gave a damn?

I've been thinkin' it's just someone else's job to care

Who am I to wanna try? But’

 

It was all for good reason though. Too many times had he tried to nurture another human being and become close did all he ever loved to get ripped out from right underneath his feet. Minho has stopped caring a long, long time ago. He stopped caring for others, what others thought, how others viewed him, and what others wanted of him. Not after he saw his own two best friends get beaten to death because they showed who they were to the world. 

 

If the world was so hateful towards others for being themselves… Minho didn’t want to be a part of it. 

 

‘Change is a powerful thing, people are powerful beings

Tryin' to find the power in me to be faithful

Change is a powerful thing, I feel it comin' in me

Maybe by the time Summer's done

I'll be able, to be honest, capable

Of holdin' you in my arms without lettin' you fall

When I don't feel beautiful or stable

Maybe it's enough to just be where we are because’

 

Change was never something Minho enjoyed, and dealing with death was everything Minho hated. It was scary how quickly something can happen and how strong that can affect people around it. Minho didn’t tolerate change, he kept his schedule the same just for the sake of his sanity. 

 

He wasn’t sure he could ever face that kind of change again. 

 

‘Every time that we run, we don't know what it's from

Now we finally slow down, we feel close to it

There's a change gonna come, I don't know where or when

But whenever it does, we'll be here for it’

 

Perhaps in a lot of ways, Minho had been running his whole life. Running from the bullies in preschool, the assholes in high school, the church crowd who claim him to be Satan himself, his drunk beat dad, his heroin addict of a mother, the gang leaders infesting this place. 

 

Himself. 

 

‘Yeah, whenever it does, we'll be here for it

Whenever it does, we'll be here for it’

 

Minho was tired of running. 

 

But he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop. 

  
  


Applause rang out when his honey like vocals came to a slow, Minho’s hands dropped from the mic and his eyes opened in a slow, almost seductive drawl. “Thank you.” He breathed out before stepping away to escape behind the curtain for a few moments. Minho practically chugged the two glasses of water handed to him, even down the shot of whiskey another hand had slipped him. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have taken the alcohol purely for his throat and the other shows he’d have to do later that night, but something told him he would need the alcohol to get through whatever this night had in store for him. 

 

Suddenly, and without warning, hands slipped onto Minho’s waist and the singer was whirled around to come face to face with a familiar, beautiful face. Johnny. “Hey there, doll.” Johnny greeted with a polite smile, bringing the younger in for a warm embrace. Minho didn’t fight it, Johnny was probably his favorite regular. “Your voice never fails to amaze me.” Johnny was never one for small talk. 

 

“You flatter me too much, Hyung.” 

 

“It’s what I’m good at.” Johnny shrugged, and Minho let out a teasing giggle, stepping forward until they were chest to chest. The two had fooled around once or twice before, and while it had been fun and some of the best times Minho had ever had. He knew he couldn’t have Johnny. Johnny was too good for him. 

 

“Now I don’t know about that…” Minho teased, resting his cheek against Johnny’s shoulder and just letting Johnny hold him for a while. “I should get back out there. You staying for the next one?” Minho inquired with a tilt of his head and a slight pout, but Johnny flushed and slowly shook his head. 

 

“I’m afraid not, doll. I have some uh… business to attend to.” Normally, this meant Johnny was dealing with his family and whatever chaos was heading their way, but Minho knew this time… it was different. And damn was he proud.

 

“Ah… Johnny Seo has a date, does he? Have fun, hyung.” Minho grinned, pecked him on the cheek and left before Johnny could even try and argue with him. Once, Minho stepped back out on stage, applause rung out. “Sorry about that, loves. Needed an alcohol break. You can understand right?” Minho giggled innocently, and he swore he earned a few coos amongst the laughs that echoed afterward. “Now. Let’s get going shall we?”

 

If Minho spared Johnny a wink as he walked out, that was his own business. 

  
  


The pub Minho sang out really was enjoyable, despite what went on around him, but as much as Minho enjoyed it, it made him dread going back to his apartment, his ‘home’. As morbid as it may sound, Minho didn’t have a home, a place where he felt safe and vulnerable. It wasn’t exactly a loss per say because Minho wasn’t even sure he ever even had one, to begin with, but that didn’t make him crave it any less. The singer wanted nothing more than to come home, to a warm bed with his cat, Noki, and not have to worry about being evicted or having enough food to eat for the next three days. 

 

They say money doesn’t buy happiness, but Minho is pretty damn sure he’d be a lot happier if he had some. 

 

Minho’s Keys jingled, more out of a nervous habit rather than Minho quickly approaching his apartment. The singer could take care of himself no problem, but that didn’t make this side of town any less scary so Minho learned pretty damn quickly to walk with pace rather than go for a leisurely stroll. It wasn’t as if he had the time for that anyway. However, once his head peeped over the staircase and he saw a somewhat familiar figure stood by his doorway looking distressed, Minho visibly gulped and tensed. Sure, the figure was familiar, but Minho had no idea where he knew it from and just how hostile they were either. He couldn’t risk that. “Can I help you?” Minho sneered into the silence, letting his heart calm when he recognized the face that turned towards him. 

 

“Uh… hello.” Woojin croaked out awkwardly, and faintly under the moonlight Minho could see his face was healing in other places but he had fresh new injuries. “I don’t normally… try and get patched up, but… my injuries heal a lot faster when someone does look at them.” Woojin’s words came out slurred and slow, but he hadn’t seemed drunk. However, it was rather obvious Eric now occupied his home but Woojin had still come to him instead, even waited outside his apartment. “I can go home if it’s not a good time for you.” Minho didn’t even realize that he was staring and stayed silent for far too long. 

 

“No, no… it’s not an issue. Come in.” Minho hushed and headed towards the door to unlock it. The hairs on the back of Minho’s neck and along his biceps stood at full attention when he dawned on him how close behind Woojin was hovering behind Minho. Now, Minho was not intimidated. Sure, Woojin was buff and obviously some sort of street fighter, but Minho knew better. Something about this man stood behind him reminded Minho of a teddy bear, but he would never utter that out loud. If anything, Minho was flustered, because Woojin was warm, large, and attractive. Everything Minho found appealing in a man, but Woojin just… 

 

Woojin was different and Minho didn’t like that. 

 

Once Minho stepped inside, he turned on the dull lights to the living room and shimmied inside to allow Woojin room to enter. “Um, just sit at the table in the kitchen. I’ll grab the first aid kit.” Minho uttered, voice low and guttural and not matching the shy eyes looking anywhere except Woojin. Woojin kept quiet, padding into the small kitchen to sit at the cluttered kitchen table and fiddling with the odd objects on the surface of the scratched up wood. Were those blood stains? Faintly, underneath all the clutter on the table, there were deep, red stains on the light wood and Woojin began to wonder just who this beautiful man was. 

 

It hadn’t taken long for Minho to gather both his wits and the first aid kit, but he internally dreaded having to be so close to this man so soon, and not being able to do anything either. Normally, Minho would find a man, hook up for the night, and then be satisfied for a while, but Minho knew, deep deep down, that Woojin would be different.

 

Minho cleared a space on his table for the first aid kit, shyly nudging Woojin’s legs apart with his knee so he could stand between them. “Tilt your head up for me, love.” Minho urged, lightly grazing the side of his pinky against the elder’s chin to coax him a bit further. Woojin didn’t fight it but he couldn’t bear to look Minho in the eyes for more than a few seconds. It seemed Minho couldn’t do it either. But Woojin had to admit that even if the treatment stung, seeing Minho’s focused face made his stomach twist in a pleasant discomfort. “Hm… I think you’re done. Unless there’s more I don’t know about.” Minho uttered and Woojin glanced down at his aching torso. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve bothered you enough -“ It had all happened in a span of four seconds; Woojin stood up in a frantic, unstable motion causing the chair to screech back and their chests to bump, and perhaps he could have gotten around the younger if Minho didn’t have faster reflexes than he did and push him back down in the chair by the shoulders. They looked at each other, Minho sliding his hands down to Woojin’s chest and offering him a warm, timid smile. 

 

“I don’t mind.” Minho hushed, but a playful glint rose in his eyes and Woojin felt more at ease. “Come on now, let me see what you’ve got under that shirt of yours, Kim.” With a waggle Of his eyebrows, Minho coaxed a deep, breathy chuckle from the elder and felt his whole body prickle with goosebumps at the sound. Fuck. Woojin carefully peeled his gray, slightly blood stained t-shirt from his body and revealed a body that made Minho weak at the knees. Unsurprisingly, Woojin was toned to all hell, and his chest was firm and broad. Minho could practically see how many hours Woojin spent working himself out and honestly, it was hot. Minho couldn’t even say anything, his fingers lightly tracing along the tan skin in a slow drawl. 

 

Minho realized he was staring and touching for just a few moments too long and coughed awkwardly, reaching for the first aid kit and avoiding the elder’s eyes. He felt like a teenager again and he hated it. If this were anybody else, Minho probably would have pounced already, so why was Woojin so different? Minho was snapped out of his daze by a hand squeezing the back of his knees when Minho applied a bit too much pressure to an open cut above his heart. “Sorry.” His apology simply rung off the walls and fell onto deaf ears as Woojin seemed to be now in his own head as well, and Minho tried to use that time to the best of his advantage. The quicker Minho could get Woojin out of there, the better. 

 

The quicker Minho could get out of this weird, dreamlike haze he was in when Woojin was around, the better. Minho didn’t like being in the depths of the dream world as it only made the fall back to really hurt more than it would have if he had merely grazed the surface with his fingertips. It was as if they were practically on the same page, coughing as Minho backed up and Woojin nudged him away at the same time. “Thank you… for the help. I should get going now.” It was just above a whisper, a low croak resembling that of rocks scraping against a hard surface, a cliffside maybe. It sent shivers down Minho’s spine. 

 

“Of course. Come to find me if you need anything.” Their steps echoed off of the walls around them, Minho hovering behind Woojin as the elder darted for the door. However, just before Woojin walked away slowly, he turned back to glance at Minho with what looked like his version of an appreciative smile. Anyone else would have seen it as a grimace, but Minho was used to the shy, real smiles men like Woojin didn’t like to demonstrate too often. If there weren’t sirens echoing outside, perhaps Woojin would have heard the audible gulp Minho spared when Woojin’s eyes trailed down to the tan skin exposed under the slit in the fabric of shirt exposing Minho’s chest. It made Minho’s toes squirm in a pleasant discomfort he had to bite down on his tongue to keep his comments inside. 

 

“Goodnight, Minho.” 

 

“Goodnight, love.” 

  
  
  


No matter what anyone said, getting used to the musky odor of the arena was nearly impossible. Woojin had been fighting in that ring for years, spent three days in a row there at one time before, but he still struggled significantly with getting used to the mixed smell of bad alcohol, weed, cigarettes, blood, and sweat. It was the ‘combination of Champions’ Changbin liked to claim, but Woojin knew that even he, the man who practically reeked of the smell every hour of every day, hated the smell as much as he did. “Maybe we should start wearing masks filled with flowers or some shit… you know like they did back in the black plague.” Jisung uttered from beside Woojin, and it wasn’t the worst of ideas until Woojin actually thought about it.

 

“We’re already suffocating without the masks, but getting a face full of flowers and actually suffocating? No thanks.” Woojin dismissed the idea immediately, but Jisung seemed unconvinced. 

 

“I’d rather die to the smell of lavender than to the smell of…” Jisung paused for a moment. “ _ Changbin _ .” Woojin couldn’t refrain from snorting at the visible shudder that ran down the younger’s body at the realization. “You can’t tell me you don’t think the same thing! Imagine dying with the smell of Changbin up your nose! It wouldn’t be pleasant.” Jisung points out with a whine, clutching the back of Woojin’s shirt a bit tighter as they navigated the crowd and he nearly got knocked over. Woojin could see where he was coming from but looked around in case Changbin just happened to be nearby to hear it.

 

“Don’t let him hear that, or he might actually make sure you die to the smell of him,” Woojin uttered under his breath, but it seemed a witch casted a spell over Woojin because Changbin appeared with a shit eating grin on his lips. If Jisung yelped at the sight of the shortest appearing out of nowhere, that was his business. “Oh god.” Woojin groaned lowly, but the smile that was already on Changbin’s lips seemed to widen at the elder’s obvious distress. 

 

“Why yes, Hyung. I am God, but is calling him smelly any way to treat him?” Changbin snickered, curling his fingers around the fabric of Woojin’s shirt and tugging him forward a bit. “How are you going to make it up to me?” When their noses brushed, an all too familiar, almost scary face flashed into Woojin’s mind and he was reminded of the younger male who made his stomach twist in discomfort and heart do irrational things. The elder nudged Changbin away, a rather cold look in his eyes, but not as chilling as they normally are. 

 

“By winning this fight, Bin.” Woojin coughed and moved away, oblivious to Changbin watching his every move as Jisung tried to whisper words in his ear. Sure, Woojin would win the two fights he was competing in that night for Changbin, but perhaps he would let a few punches fly his way. It had been a week and a half since he had seen Minho and maybe it wouldn’t be too odd for him to show up, at least not any odder than all the other times. “Hey,” Woojin uttered the moment he stepped through the metal doors but stopping when he saw an unfamiliar next to Chan, talking in hushed whispers. 

 

The two pairs of eyes originally trained on the other are now on Woojin, and the fighter had never been so uncomfortable. “Woojin… this is Johnny. He’s from the Seo family. He and Changbin are related.” Woojin flickered his eyes between the two with hesitance and caution evident in his eyes. 

 

“Well… we’re not blood-related. It’s purely out of relation.” Johnny explained politely, but a sneer had been lying in the undertone of his words and Woojin took note of the way Chan gave the elder a side glance. Chan may demonstrate every trait of an asshole, but he never appreciated it when he heard insults or aggression towards the people he cared about. “Well… I’ll be going now, but Woojin?” The fighter never tore his eyes away from the elder, not even for a second. Johnny took Woojin’s hand and slipped a card into his palm. “Come talk to me soon, yeah?” And then he was gone, strutting out with a smoothed out suit and flawless hair, and Woojin could practically hear the insecurities flying out of Chan’s head. 

 

Woojin turned to face Chan, not surprised to find his face pulled into an insecure snarl. “Lord… We have got to find you someone, because this pent-up frustration is just irritating.” Woojin snapped and brushed past his leader to tug his shirt off over his head and change into a pair of gym shorts before wrapping his knuckles. The elder nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt fingertips graze his back and a nose nudges his shoulder. “What the fuck?” Woojin jumped away with a startled gleam in his eyes that almost reminded Chan of a wild animal. Of course, he was caught off guard, but he knew that Woojin would react that way, that’s why he did it. 

 

Chan didn’t say anything, letting his fingers prod at the healing bruises along Woojin’s body with an odd storm in his eye. “Who is treating you? This isn’t the way Eric works. This is… sloppy and looks like it’s done by only a slightly skilled nurse. Are you treating yourself?” Chan snapped, practically pinning Woojin up against the wall. The elder scowled, holding himself back from nearly punching his leader from how close he was stood but neither one received the chance to say anything further as the door opened suddenly and Changbin and Jisung were stood in the doorway. 

 

“Changbin -” Chan started but cut himself off when Changbin’s eyes flashed quickly into something icy, so much more icy than what Woojin offered a good portion of the time. 

 

“Woojin’s fights are about to start. You better get out there before the other guy gets too prepared.” 

  
  
  


   The dreamlike daze Woojin found himself in every time he was around Minho was growing worse and worse, and he knew it too. He knew the slight obsession he had with the younger was concerning and he was only feeding into it all by visiting, but  _ god _ . It was like Woojin’s body was acting without thinking, or at least it had grown a mind separate from Woojin’s. Soon, he was stood in front of the door, and his head was just about to breach the clouds, but it would take one final shove upwards for him to fully dive head deep into the clouds high up in the sky; the same clouds Woojin was always told he would never touch. 

 

   Hard, bruised knuckles came up to knock at the door, but it had taken another two tries for the door to go creaking open and what looked like an exhausted Minho peering through the door. “Oh… Hey, hyung.” Minho croaked, and Woojin cleared his throat as if he were going to speak, but nothing came out. He didn’t trust his voice right now. Minho furrowed his eyebrows at that, opening the door a bit wider to expose himself and Woojin winced when he saw how exhausted Minho looked with his deep eye bags, swollen cheeks, messy stained shirt and lack of pants besides for boxers that looked three sizes too big. It was rather obvious what Woojin wanted, as he never came here for any other reason so Minho took Woojin by the tips of his fingers and guided him inside. 

 

   Woojin sat at the same table he always does, clearing the space for Minho when he went to go get the first aid kit to waste less time. However, instead of standing between Woojin’s legs like he always did, Minho slumped in the other chair and wedged himself closer so he could actually reach Woojin’s face. Woojin tried his best to ignore the fact that Minho’s arms were getting tired, but he could see the occasional silence wince Minho would let out and couldn’t help himself but to bat Minho away. “My face isn’t all that bad, it’s okay,” Woojin reassured, even if Minho didn’t entirely believe it. Minho was too tired to argue anyway. 

 

   “Did you win?” Minho murmured as he peeled the bloody wraps from Woojin’s knuckles to inspect the wounds. Woojin let out a cocky scoff, but let some of it drain away when Minho let out a deep, breathy chuckle. “Course you did. What kind of answer was I expecting? Kim Woojin the undefeated right?” Minho teased and Woojin nodded along playfully. “I bet I could beat you in a fight,” Minho claimed boldly as he grabbed for a fresh roll of gauze, but Woojin only allowed Minho a snort and a wave of his hand. 

 

   “The only way that would happen is if I got distracted by how good you looked.” Woojin murmured, coming out gruffly but it had been his own version of a purr, and it sent Minho’s head swirling. Minho clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a disapproving hum. “What? You think otherwise?” A hum rung out, Minho shaking his head with a dramatic ‘meh’ expression and Woojin waited until Minho had finished wrapping his second hand to get up and hoist Minho up and over his shoulder. 

 

   Minho let out screeches, wiggling and beating against Woojin’s back half-heartedly but Woojin held a vice grip around his waist and even slapped his ass with a laugh. “Hyung!” Minho whined out, grabbing onto the doorway when Woojin walked through the bedroom, but Woojin was far stronger than Minho and ripped him away with a grunt and an extra power step. Suddenly, Minho’s back hit the bed and one leg was pressed against the mattress between Minho’s thighs. They panted and chuckled, Woojin attempted to pin Minho down like a wrestler would his opponent, but with a rush of adrenaline, Minho flipped them around. 

 

   This went on for a while until Minho ended up on top and had Woojin’s hands pinned beside his head and his thighs were resting on either side of Woojin’s lower stomach. “1…” Minho called out, admiring the panting man underneath him and resisting the urge to claw his hands down his chest, “2…” His voice was a bit lower this time, Minho’s head leaning down slowly as his tongue swiped across his lips, “3…” Their lips were just barely nudging, noses brushing, when there was a loud bang from the floor above and they jumped apart in mild fright. Minho glanced down at Woojin, the gleam from before no longer lingering in his eyes and his smile was softer, fonder. “Looks like I won, hyung.”

 

   Woojin sat up suddenly with a laugh, curling his arms around Minho’s lower waist but despite his tender touches the look in his eyes was empty. “I’m sorry to tell you but it’s a lot different in the ring. At least for me anyway.” Woojin uttered, watching Minho’s throat bob for only a moment before glancing back up towards Minho’s gaze.

 

“I know.”

 

They just sat there for a while, Minho burying his nose into Woojin’s shoulder as the elder rubbed his calloused palms over the entirety of Minho’s back. All of it was just a bit hard to understand. They had grown close, but not in the sense of telling each other their troubles. Not even close. Instead, they communicated through touches, touches that they were too scared to do with anyone else. This was their own time, a dreamlike world for them to just be vulnerable for just a few moments to satisfy their aching hearts. Somewhere along the way, Minho’s cat Noki would join them, but soon, Woojin would have to leave. He never left without a kiss to the cheek that sent his mind racing. 

 

If the line that divided friends and something more became a bit blurry then they didn’t pay it any mind. 

  
  


Woojin didn’t think he would see Minho again for a while. Chan had told him he didn’t have any major fights coming up so was giving him the next few days to just relax and make sure he’s all the way healed, but somehow, someway, Woojin still ended up in the pub Johnny had pointed him to a few nights ago and was waiting patiently for the elder to bring back a few glasses of whiskey for the night ahead. In the meantime, Woojin looked around the pub in interest, somewhat uncomfortable with how rich it seemed but something about it just felt so… off. He knew Chan owned this place so it wasn’t dangerous territory but there was still something that stirred in his stomach, bordering the way Minho made him feel just from looking at him. 

 

There were small lamps that hung from the ceiling over each table, a crystal lampshade around them and basking a warm, yellow light over the room. The tables were a deep, almost black slick wood and the chairs were plush red cushioned with tall backs and wide bottoms. The place practically dripped with gold and Woojin just knew that this is where most of Chan’s extravagant deals go down, the coke and opium moving, and even some of the more… less morally inclined actions regarding people. Woojin never agreed with it but it wasn’t as if he could speak up about it, especially with Minho in his life now. 

 

Soon, Johnny came back around with two classes in hand and set them down on the table. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I wanted to get to know my little cousin's man of interest for a while.” Woojin felt his face go pale, looking anywhere but Johnny. That seemed to be everything Johnny needed to see to know what was going on. “Ah… so it seems it’s one-sided.” Woojin winced, afraid that Johnny would end up killing him or something but the man only let out a small laugh. “I can’t say I blame you. I know he can be a bit much and it takes a special kind of person to love someone like Changbin.” Johnny sat back in his seat casually. 

 

“It’s not that I don’t care for him, because I do, but I just…” Woojin trailed off. 

 

“You’re not capable of seeing him the way he wants you to?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

A silence fell over them for a moment, Johnny seemingly deep in thought before he clapped Woojin on the shoulder. “That’s fair. It wouldn’t be right if you felt forced to love someone.” To say Woojin was surprised by that response was an understatement but he was pleasantly surprised. “Don’t over think it too much. Changbin is a wild card but a natural born soldier. He’ll get over it eventually.” Perhaps, deep down if one were to think about it, that wasn’t good, and Woojin thought about it. He thought about it long and hard and came to the conclusion that he really didn’t like it. He wished Changbin was human, and deep down he was, but it was buried so deep under the drugs, the families, the alcohol, the sex, everything. To everyone else, Changbin was a robotic soldier. 

 

But Woojin couldn’t think about it. Not now when someone came out on the stage at the back of the room with an all too familiar face. “Evening loves.” Minho purred out, looking around the room until his eyes locked with Woojin and it felt like the breath had been sucked out of their lungs, but Minho remained composed, even going as far as to harbor a smirk. “It looks like there are some new, handsome faces here tonight,” Minho never broke eye contact with the elder, “In case you don’t know me, I’m your shining gem, I’m Minho. I sing here almost every night.” His eyes began to drift again and Woojin felt like he could breathe again. All until Minho’s eyes landed back on him. “I hope you like the show.” 

 

‘Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper I love you

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me’

 

Woojin was entranced. Smitten, drug in, whipped, whatever you want to call it. Minho’s honey voice had latched onto Woojin and kept him in place, but he couldn’t complain. Not when Minho looked absolutely gorgeous with his red silk shirt with the same slit down the neck tucked into a pair of black skinnies that hugged all the right places, and shiny boots with equally as shiny jewelry hanging from his ears and around his neck. It felt like Minho was singing just for him, using his entire soul. 

  
  


‘Say night-ie night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me’

 

   Minho’s eyes hadn’t been on Woojin the entire time, but Woojin didn’t mind by any degree. Seeing Minho so deep in what looked like he loved greatly was endearing, especially when he closed his eyes and let his body sway lightly with the music. Woojin was so ungodly scared of the way his heart fluttered at the sight. But Woojin wasn’t some dumb teenager. He knew what his feelings were and he just hoped that Minho felt the same and it wasn’t just who Minho was as a person. Though… would Woojin ever actually tell Minho of his feelings? Probably not, even if he did want to kiss Minho until his whole body ached and his lips were bruised. 

 

   ‘Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this’

 

   But Minho couldn’t deny his feelings either. His eyes were trained on Woojin and Woojin only when he sang those words with his entire chest. He needed Woojin, whether he liked it or not. It just scared him that his heart had learned to rely on another without even really knowing who he was and what he stood for in such a short period of time. It was as if he was so vulnerable to the idea of something real that his heart fell for the first thing it could find. An equally as real, but cold and vulnerable heart. 

 

   ‘Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they are

Dream a little dream of me’

 

Woojin would surely dream a little of Minho, especially with that slow, and deep drawl of words. The more Minho sang, the more he dragged Woojin in by the throat with nimble, soft fingers. Woojin needed him too. 

  
  


‘Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this’

 

And then. It was just them in that room. 

 

‘Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me’

 

And Woojin would. He would until he couldn’t anymore. 

  
  


“Hey, love.” Minho fluttered his eyes like a cat would having just woken from a slumber, slow and endearing, as he looked over the back of his vanity chair with his chin resting on his hands. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, much less with Johnny,” Minho claimed, crossing his legs over to the side so Woojin had a perfect view of them and Woojin felt his bottom lip tuck itself between his teeth, he found it hard to think straight when Minho was wearing makeup and his hair was framing his face perfectly. Minho was beautiful. 

 

“Yeah. He’s friends with my boss and wanted to speak with me since I know his cousin.” Woojin hushed and he could have sworn he was imagining a dark look flash over Minho’s features for just a few split seconds before it melted into the same seductive look from before. 

 

“That so?” Minho purred before lifting himself out of the chair and standing tall as he took long strides towards the elder. Woojin felt his whole chest contract when hands landed on the toned muscle there and began to rub softly. “How do you know this cousin? Work or through other… circumstances?” It was as if Minho was challenging him, challenging him to say that Changbin was anything other than a friend and that just seemed to rub Woojin the wrong way. The elder huffed, shifting his head so his nose rubbed along the side of Minho’s cheekbone teasingly. 

 

“Does it matter?” Just faintly, barely even gripping it, Woojin slipped his hand onto Minho’s hip and let it slide towards his lower back. Minho hummed, nuzzling his cheek against where Woojin’s nose lingered before reaching around to graze his lips along the junction of Woojin’s neck and shoulder. 

 

“Hm. I suppose not.” Minho hummed and allowed himself to pull Woojin closer so they were embracing rather than just offering what seemed like a promise of touches. Woojin didn’t fight it. “Spare me a ride home?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

Realistically, Woojin should have suspected what would happen when he trailed up those stairs after insisting he walked Minho up to his door. He should have prepared himself when he saw the hazy, almost drunk look in the younger’s eyes when he gazed at him in the car despite not having consumed any sort of alcohol. He should have suspected when Minho refused to let his hand go and lingered by the door. “Thanks for the ride, love… but how can I thank you?” It seemed as though Minho already knew how with the way he was trailing his fingers along Woojin’s collar bones and down his chest. 

 

“You don’t have to -” 

 

“But I want to.” His voice was much softer now, his eyes expressing all the words he couldn’t say and Woojin realized that Minho wasn’t just thanking him for the ride anymore. 

 

“Then reward me however you see fit,” Woojin uttered, lips grazing over the other’s and Minho surged forward, tangling his fingers along the collar of Woojin’s shirt and kissing him with a bruising force. A fire burned in their bellies and hearts, and Minho dragged him inside the apartment by the collar of his shirt, letting Woojin kick the door closed behind him.

  
  
  


“Kim Woojin, you fucking coward.” 

 

   Two weeks passed before Minho was confronted by anything that had to do with Kim Woojin. The night Woojin brought Minho home was nothing more than a distant, painful memory now, but the pain had only sparked when Minho awoke to an empty bed and love bites all over his chest, neck, and thighs. Woojin seemingly disappeared into thin air, and Minho hadn’t seen any sign of him, and if he were honest, he missed both the apathetic fighter and the love bites he left behind. “Ah, someone making you angry?” 

 

Minho jumped away from the curtain with a shriek, having been so focused on looking for Woojin to realize someone had walked up behind him. There, stood a few feet away, was a man that stood a little shorter than Minho but had curly, dark locks and deep dimples. The forearms of him that were exposed were covered in tattoos and Minho recognized the man as Chan. Minho had only ever spoken to him once and that was the day he got the job, but that was almost a year and a half ago. So why was he here now? “Hello, sir.” Minho bowed respectively, gulping when he lifted his head up to see Chan smirking at him as smug as a peacock. 

 

“Hello, Minho. It’s been a while.” Chan greeted, lowering himself down onto the small couch in the room and Minho watched him with an uneasy feeling swirling in his stomach. Chan studied him for a while. “So… you’re the mysterious human whose been patching up my undefeated fighter…” Minho wanted to scream out ‘his name is Woojin.’ but he didn’t of course. Minho didn’t even twitch. “Don’t be so fearful, doll. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to talk is all,” Chan uttered and a part of Minho believed him. “Come sit.” And Minho couldn’t refuse. The younger singer sat himself down on the couch as far away from Chan as he could get and watched him like a cautious cat. 

 

“Is there anything you need specifically, Sir?” Minho questioned quietly, looking down at the hands in his lap and tensing when a hand landed on his shoulder. 

 

“Drop the extreme formalities. Hyung is just fine. Especially since you and Woojin seem to be pretty close.” Chan teased lightly and Minho grew bitter. ‘Close my ass’ he thought with a huff. “Oh? What do I not know?”

 

“We hooked up and I haven’t seen him in two weeks. I wouldn’t say we’re exactly close considering it seemed he got what he wanted.” Watching Chan’s face contort from shock to confusion, to realization would have been amusing if Minho wasn’t so damn angry. 

 

“Oh~ Now I understand.” Minho stared at Chan expectantly. “Woojin Hyung has this… emotional problem where he can’t express anything he wants. He’s scared of commitment and hurting the ones he cares about. He has a pretty good temper on him and he’s afraid it’ll get in the way of people he wants so he never really tries.” This wasn’t news to Minho as he had already gathered this from just how Woojin acted in general, but hearing it just made it all the more… real. “Perhaps you don’t want to hear this from me, but I promise you that Woojin cares for you the same way you care for him. He wants you even if he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet, but you’re going to have to make the first move and let him know that it’s okay.” Fair enough. 

 

“I don’t even know where to find him.” 

 

Chan’s eyes darkened. “I’ll give you his address but whatever you do… do not show up at the ring. Do you understand me?” Chan snapped and Minho nodded his head frantically. Chan seemed happy with himself and stood up. “Come on. You have a show to put on.” Chan hushed and pulled Minho onto his feet. “I wish you luck, dollface.” And let Minho tend to his last-minute preparations as he slipped into the crowd to observe the handsome man with honey like vocals. Chan could understand why his Hyung was so infatuated, but he couldn’t take his mind off of the boy who resembled that of a porcelain doll he saw in the park alone on the way here. 

 

But that was his own business, just as everything else was everyone else’s. 

 

Never did Minho lack in his performances, even when Woojin And a small piece of paper with the elder’s address on it in his pocket was occupying every part of his mind. Minho was so deep in thought that he never took a second to realize that Chan had left and more people had arrived. Minho had a full house that night and he let Woojin slip away from his mind for the time being. His love for music and singing was far more important than a man whom he hadn’t seen for two weeks straight because the man was a coward. 

 

So, Minho sang his heart out. He sang for so long with so much strength that his throat was sore when he finally left the stage, but a part of him wished he hadn’t left it at all. He wished he could have stayed up and sung until he couldn’t anymore, at least he wouldn’t have ended up in the mess he was in now. At least he wouldn’t have come home to find Woojin angrily beating at Eric’s door instead of his own with a bullet in his lower abdomen and hands covered in nothing but blood. “Woojin? What the fuck?” Minho hissed out in disbelief the moment he reached the balcony, gulping when the elder whirled around to face him. Woojin was sickly pale, but Minho matched it when he saw all the blood covering Woojin’s shirt. “Holy shit.” 

 

“Get inside, Minho.” Woojin gritted out as he continued to bang on Eric’s door, “Eric! Let me in, dammit!” Woojin yelled in frustration and Minho grabbed him by the back of the collar to drag him away and into his apartment but Woojin ripped himself away. “I told you to get inside! I don’t need your help!” Woojin hissed menacingly, but it did the opposite of what it was supposed to do. It would have intimidated anyone else, but it just made Minho angrier than he was before. 

 

“I don’t take orders from you! Now stop being a fucking child and let me help you! You’re literally bleeding out!” Minho barked as he dug his fingernails painfully into Woojin’s biceps. The elder let out a wince at the feeling of Minho grabbing him where rough, painful bruises resided. “Now, Stop banging at that door and get inside.” A tense silence fell over them, a staring match taking place but Minho ultimately winning. Woojin let his fist fall to his side but it never unclenched as Minho grabbed him by the back of the neck and practically threw him inside. “Lay down on the couch.” Woojin didn’t fight it anymore, the pain in his abdomen was getting worse and worse as time passed. 

 

Woojin wasn’t even sure how many seconds or minutes passed when Minho finally came barrelling around the corner with all the supplies he needed, falling to his knees at the side of the couch and pressing a bunched up cloth to the wound. “Hold it.” Minho dug through all of his supplies, ignoring the heavy panting of the elder on the couch in front of him all until he pulled out a pair of oversized, sterilized tweezers and a flashlight. “Sorry, hyung.” And then Woojin’s mouth was filled with a clean set of socks to muffle his screams. “1… 2… 3…” Woojin let out a scream when the tweezers began to dig through the open wound in his abdomen. 

 

Minho became increasingly frustrated when he realized the bullet had hit one of Woojin’s lower ribs causing the bone to crack and the bullet to shatter. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, hyung.” Minho apologized when he had to dig around a bit more to get to one of the remaining bullet pieces and tears began to escape the elder’s eyes. It hadn’t taken long after for Woojin to pass out from both shock and the unbearable pain. The silence made the procedure less stressful, but it was scary not really knowing if Woojin was still breathing or not except for when he had to check his pulse occasionally. But Woojin was a fighter, he would be okay. 

 

Minho let out a sigh of relief when it looked like he had gotten all the bullet fractures out, moving onto stitching up with the wound with a thick strand of thread and bandaging it up after. It had taken more time to wrap Woojin up than it had to get the bullet out of his abdomen because Woojin was so just so ungodly heavy, even for a man as strong as Minho. “You’re something else, Kim Woojin.” Minho would deal with the mess in the morning because right now he just wants to get the blood off of him and collapse into bed to get a few more hours. There was absolutely no way he was going into work tomorrow. 

  
  


The apartment was deathly quiet, even if there were three people there and two of them were awake and standing. Minho and Chan stood side by side, Chan staring down at an unconscious Woojin exactly 7 hours after Minho had to get the bullet out of Woojin’s body and Minho was exhausted. He just wanted to curl back up under the covers with Noki and sleep for the next three days, but Minho figured Chan needed to know that one of his men was currently unconscious on his couch with an old bullet wound in his stomach. “Shit… I didn’t think -” Chan paused, choking on his words with a hitch of his breath, “Fuck!” Chan suddenly roared and Minho flinched. 

 

“Hyung… What happened?” Minho timorously wondered, frightened by the elder who slowly swiveled to face him. Chan never did answer his question. 

  
  


“Is he okay? Did you get the bullet out?” 

 

“I-I think so.” Minho stammered out, and Chan’s shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit. 

 

“Good… That’s good.” Chan hushed, squatting down so he was eye level with his hyung and daring to reach out and comb through the sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “You idiot.” Minho felt like he wasn’t supposed to hear whatever Chan said after that so muted his ears for a moment, focusing on the fighter’s face and letting his brain wander elsewhere. Minho understood but he didn’t all the same. He understood how Woojin was and what he did, but why was a completely different story. Minho normally kept his curiosity to himself, biting down on all the questions to make sure they didn’t slip past his lips, but Minho wanted to know everything about Woojin. Everything. “Do you think you can keep him here for a few days? I don’t think they know where you are and it might be safer for him to be here than in his own home.” 

 

Minho’s eyes met Chan’s with a slow drawl as he was a bit hesitant to take his sight off of Woojin, but eventually, Minho nodded. It would only be for a few days he told himself. “Shouldn’t be an issue.” He tried to make his voice firm and confident but it was quiet and more of a croak. “But I still have three jobs. I’m not sure how much I can watch over him.” Minho uttered out after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with your jobs and the money. Just keep an eye on him until he wakes up.” And Minho didn’t have the nerve to reject the offer. 

  
  
  
  


Everything ached and everything felt dizzy. The scene practically formed in Woojin’s head the moment he was conscious; he was lying in the middle of the road after being hit by a truck the night before because he stumbled across the street with alcohol in his system and now he was still lying there. Except, the scene in his head quickly morphed into another when something cold, wet, and soft landed on his forehead and his eyes pried open to meet a pair of familiar, concerned ones. The man above him let out a yelp at Woojin’s sudden consciousness, jumping back a bit and Woojin let out a groan. “You’re so loud,” Woojin grumbled, barely understandable but Minho managed to decipher it. 

 

“Really? That’s the first thing you say to me? I saved your life and took care of you for four days afterward you know.” Minho huffed as he resituated the damp cloth against Woojin’s head to make sure it was covering every part of his sweaty forehead. Woojin let out a slight breath of amusement, shivering a bit when Minho’s breath fanned over his face and fingertips grazed his temples. “Are you cold? Because I was about to tug your body into an ice bath to cool you down.” Minho frowned and Woojin shook his head. Woojin felt like he had been sitting in a sauna for far too long. 

 

“That ice bath sounds pretty nice actually.” Woojin breathed but Minho’s worried expression dropped into a simple, neutral one. 

 

“Well, I was joking about the ice bath. The most I can offer you is a cold shower.” Minho explained briefly, voice growing progressively louder in volume as he moved away into the kitchen. Woojin called out a low ‘that’s fine’ that made Minho’s toes curl. “Can you walk or do you need help?” Minho murmured around a steaming cup of tea, seeing Woojin stand up with a grunt and gripping the couch to stabilize himself as the dizziness in his head slowly slipped away. Woojin stumbled towards Minho, ignoring the searing pain shooting through his abdomen and attempting to take the cup of tea away from Minho’s fingers. “Hey! This is mine! Go shower and you might get one after.” Minho scolded. 

 

Minho curled a firm arm around Woojin’s upper back and guided him towards the bathroom casually, making sure Woojin knew how to work the more than finicky shower and to not spend all day in there either. Minho was already wincing at the water bill he would receive at the end of the month. Minho was only used to showering every other day and for two minutes at a time. He couldn’t afford to do anything more than that and he had already used shit tons of water to clean up the bloody mess Woojin left behind. “Thank you. Do you have any clothes that might fit?” Minho hummed and parted from the bathroom to grab the clothes Chan had brought by. 

 

“Chan brought some of your clothes so I could change you into something that wasn’t covered in blood or uncomfortable.” Minho flinched back when Woojin whirled around with a hard, stone cold look in his eyes. 

 

“You know Chan?”

  
  


Minho rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “He’s kind of my boss? But not really? I’ve only seen him four times and three of those were about you.” Woojin relaxed, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead harshly. 

 

“Right… Right, you sing at his pub.” Minho hummed in confirmation. “Ok well, thank you.” Woojin shooed the younger out of the bathroom and the minute the door shut, Woojin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in, oblivious to Minho doing the same. The younger was practically supporting himself against the kitchen counter, the rough surface was the only thing keeping him from sliding down to the ground. Minho forgot how much Woojin sent his heart racing and his head spinning. Perhaps… perhaps Minho had been equally as cowardly as Woojin, it had just taken him feeling like he was about to go into cardiac arrest to realize. 

 

Somewhere between their thoughts, Minho managed to make food and Woojin finished showering. Slipping on pants had been easy, but getting the shirt over his head was nearly impossible, and after a few tries, Woojin gave up. “Minho…” Woojin padded into the kitchen to grab Minho’s attention, but the younger hadn’t given it to him immediately. Minho was too busy cooking, flickering his eyes over to Woojin for a second to just acknowledge his presence. Woojin didn’t want to ask directly, so resorted to complaining in hopes of getting his point across. “It hurts too much to put my shirt on.” Woojin trailed off and it took a second glance to realize that yes, Woojin was indeed shirtless with water droplets still trailing down the tan skin there. 

 

“Oh. Ok.” Minho turned the eye of the stove down and made sure nothing would have the potential of burning before approaching Woojin and grabbing the shirt. Minho bunched the fabric up and let Woojin slide his arms through the armholes straight ahead before pushing it up and over his head without the elder having to do any of the work. “There we go.” Minho breathed, patting Woojin’s chest gently twice and moving away back towards the stove. All Woojin could do was stare. “Go ahead and sit down, tea is already prepared.” Minho dismissed him to the table with an empty, guarded tone. Woojin slowly trailed over to the dining table where the cups of tea sat and the moment the liquid ran down his throat, Woojin relaxed. It was jasmine tea too, which just so happened to be his favorite. 

 

“How’d you know jasmine was my favorite?” Minho offered Woojin a weirded outside eye. 

 

“I… didn’t? It’s my favorite.” Instead of seeming excited that they liked the same tea, Minho was protective. “If you drink all of my tea, I will throw you off the balcony,” Minho growled out, no sort of playfulness to his tone but all Woojin could do was chuckle lowly. 

 

“I’ll just get you a few boxes to replace it. How’s that?” Minho eyed the elder wearily. 

 

“Will it be the bigger packs?” 

 

“If that’s what you want.” 

 

Minho didn’t like taking things from people, but if Woojin had to stay here for the next few days, he was damn well going to contribute. “Fine.” Woojin smiled softly in victory as Minho practically slammed a bowl of freshly made ramen on the table with carrots, beans, peppers, and chicken inside. However, it was a rather small portion but still bigger than Minho’s. “You only get so much. This is my food for the week.” Minho hushed and pointed towards the stacked Tupperware on the counter filled with small portions of noodles. Is that really all Minho ate. “It’s really not that bad once you get used to it.” Minho grinned reassuringly, stuffing a few noodles into his mouth with a hum. Woojin must be pretty easy to read. “Well… sure, but you’re actually just saying everything out loud.” 

 

Woojin felt like throwing himself off of the balcony. “Oh.” Woojin croaked And That was the end of that. They ate in a heavy silence, questions swarming around their heads but never slipping past their lips and into the air. When they both had finished eating, Minho gathered their bowls and began to wash them, but Woojin never moved. Instead, he grabbed for a necklace and twirling it between his fingers without even really looking at it. It was just something for Woojin to fiddle with. The water to the sink cut off suddenly, Minho placing the bowls on the drying wrack and gathering Woojin’s full attention. Though, he obviously didn’t expect it because he jumped a bit when he turned to see Woojin’s gaze boring into him. Minho tried his best to remain composed and unbothered as he leaned against the counter. “How long have I been here?” 

 

Minho shrugged, “4 days or so? I haven’t really been keeping up with it. Chan wouldn’t let me leave the house until you were awake -“ Minho paused for a moment, patting his pockets until he found what he was looking for and pulling out Woojin’s phone, “speaking of which, call him and tell him you’re alive so I can get back to making money and paying bills before I get kicked out.” Minho sighed and slipped Woojin his phone before leaving the room completely and letting Woojin do his thing. Woojin didn’t take his eyes off of Minho until he was gone completely from view. 

 

“Minho, I don’t have time to stop by -“ 

 

“It’s not Minho.” 

 

“Well, I’ll be damned, welcome back to the land of the living, Kim.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We need to talk.” 

 

“Well my statement still stands, I’m out of town right now and I won’t be back for a few days.” 

 

“Shit. Well, can I go home?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Chan -“ 

 

“I don’t care Woojin. I have eyes on that apartment and if I hear back that you’ve left before I’m back, I’ll find you and kill you myself.” 

 

“But Minho -“ 

 

“Speaking Of Which, Put him on the phone.” 

 

Woojin let out a huff and trailed into the living room, seeing Minho sitting on the couch reading a book with Noki laying across his shoulders and glasses resting cutely on his face. God, he was gorgeous. “Boss wants to talk to you.” Woojin slipped the phone into Minho’s view and the younger huffed from the interruption but took it nonetheless. They spoke briefly, Chan explaining to him that he needed to quit his two-day jobs because he had a proposal for him when he got back in town. Minho seemed rather bored though, and Woojin couldn’t say he blamed him. Soon, Minho handed the phone back to Woojin and the elder huffed into the phone. “Chan, you can’t do this.” He hissed lowly, but Chan scoffed in response. 

 

“Get over your emotional constipation, Hyung.” 

 

And then Chan was gone. 

 

“Looks Like you’re stuck with me for a few days, Hyung.” Minho hummed from the couch, reinvesting himself in his book and leaning a bit deeper into the couch. “We can make up for lost time, hm?” Woojin felt his stomach twist in discomfort as he lowered himself down onto the couch a cushion away from Minho, glancing at him occasionally. “Stop staring at me. Just go to sleep.” And eventually, Woojin’s ankles ended up in Minho’s lap, the book resting on top and Woojin was dozing back off to sleep to the feeling of Minho’s hand massaging his lower calf. Woojin was scared, but he was going to have to learn to get over it. 

  
  
  
  


Minho was finally allowed back in the pub, and it felt amazing. He had missed singing so much, and while singing at home was nice, it wasn’t the same as singing in front of a crowd. But as much as it felt amazing, nothing like that ever lasted and he hadn’t expected his night back to him so… cruel. 

 

“It’s been a while, loves. I’m sorry I was a little preoccupied for the last few days.” Minho apologized as soon as he was on stage,  offering the new faces a few smiles. “So I’ve started taking requests, but I do have two songs prepared for you beforehand,” Minho uttered, and then, he felt like he was on cloud nine. His honey vocals oozed out and stuck to the people all around him, dragging them in and never letting go. Though, Minho wished Woojin was there. Minho only craved for Woojin’s attention, and last time Woojin was there, Minho finally got what he wanted. So maybe it would happen again? Minho doubted it though. 

 

The two songs were over, and Minho decided to take a small break. He escaped back into the Small dressing room to touch up his makeup and down a glass of rum in the process too. He felt so… tense. Minho glanced down at the small, shattered phone on the vanity, and weighed if he should call Woojin or not. Nowadays, despite the awkwardness between them, Woojin made Minho feel comfortable, relaxed. That’s what he needed right now. 

 

But just as he was about to pick up the phone, someone walked in and took Minho’s attention away immediately. “Evening, beautiful.” His voice came out in a slow drawl, slightly deeper than Woojin’s and sent shivers down Minho’s spine. They weren’t Good shivers either. Minho cleared his throat and nodded towards the tall man standing by the doorway, he… fuck where had he seen that face before? “What? No greeting?” Minho kept his lips pursed shut. “Disappointing.” The man hushed and stepped forward, grabbing for Minho’s chin, but the singer was quick to bat his hands away. 

 

“Sorry love, no touching. You can take pictures though.” Minho replied with what seemed like a cheeky smile, but they both knew better and saw the bitterness beneath it. “What can I help you with, hm?” Something evil and malicious sparked in the other man’s eyes and Minho tensed up. 

 

“I have a request for you…” The man’s fingers swirled over the surface of Minho’s vanity before he pulled out a large wad of money and waved it in Minho’s face. “Tomorrow never came.” And then he was gone, disappearing through the door like he hadn’t been there at all, and Minho was left with something lodged in his throat he couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t do it. 

 

But he had too. Minho didn’t know why, but he had a gun to his head with this and he had to do it. So, Minho downed another glass of rum and got back on stage with a shaky breath down the microphone. Minho didn’t even greet the crowd, not having it in him to put on a smile. “This is Tomorrow Never Came.” Minho hushed, locking eyes with the same man now stood at the back of the room and coughed a bit before the music started, Minho’s fingers running shakily over the grand piano keys. 

 

‘"Hey, what you doin'?" Not a lot

Shakin' and movin' at my local spot

Baby, don't ask me why don't ask me why

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why’

 

Minho started out stable, in control, his voice as smooth as a cocktail served there, but his heart lurched. This didn’t feel right. 

 

‘Lay, Lady lay on that side of a paradise

In the Tropic of Cancer

'Cause if I had my way, you would always stay

And I'd be your tiny dancer, honey’

 

This must have been fun for the other man, seeing Minho almost choking on his words and the tears shining in his eyes. Anyone could see how upset Minho was singing this song but Minho ignored the concerned glances Johnny was sparing both him and the man in the back smiling like he was insane. 

 

‘I waited for you

In the spot, you said to wait

In the city, on the park bench

In the middle of the pourin' rain

'Cause I adored you

I just wanted things to be the same

You said to meet me up there tomorrow

But tomorrow never came

Tomorrow never came’

 

Memories were flying back and hitting him in every direction, everything that had happened so long ago but felt like it was just seconds ago. It was nothing more than a distant dream. Yeah. A dream. 

 

It wasn’t real. 

 

‘Hey, what you thinkin'? Penny for your thoughts

Those lights are blinkin' on that old jukebox

But don't ask me why just swallow some wine

Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wine’

 

But it was real. 

 

Because if it wasn’t real, Jeongin would have sung this part instead of him. This was supposed to be Jeongin’s part. Minho was supposed to hear Jeongin’s voice, not his own. 

 

‘Stay, baby, stay on the side of a paradise

In the Tropic of Cancer

'Cause if I had my way, you would always stay

And you'd be my tiny dancer, baby’

 

This didn’t feel right. It felt like Minho couldn’t breathe. 

 

‘I waited for you

In the spot, you said to wait

In the city, on the park bench

In the middle of the pourin' rain

'Cause I adored you

And I just wanted things to be the same

You said you'd meet me up there tomorrow

But tomorrow never came

Tomorrow never came’

 

They were supposed to sing this together. 

 

‘Roses out in your country house

We played guitar in your barn

And every day felt like Sunday

And I, I wish we had stayed home

And I could put on the radio to our favorite song

Lennon and Yoko, we would play all day long

"Isn't life crazy?", I said now that I'm singin' with Sean

Whoa’

 

Minho couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stand on that stage and sing a part he was supposed to sing with someone else while this cruel, cruel man was smiling like he won the lottery. Minho choked on his words, stopped playing the piano suddenly and drew gasps from the audience. Minho didn’t care though, all he could do was kick his legs and just hope he made it home, to his safe spot, to Woojin. 

 

‘I could keep waitin' for you

In the spot, we always wait

In the city, on the park bench

In the summer, on the pourin' rain

Honey, don't ignore me

I just wanted it to be the same

You said you'd love me like no tomorrow

I guess tomorrow never came (no, no, no)

Tomorrow never came (no, no)

Tomorrow never came (no, no, no)’

 

The quiet apartment quickly became filled with just barely audible sobs as Minho stumbled inside, not even bothering to be quiet as he slammed the door behind him. He wasn’t sure why he was in the kitchen, but he slid down the kitchen counters until his bottom hit the floor along with the tears that just wouldn’t keep flowing. Noki, Felix’s old cat, came running around the corner and jumped straight into Minho’s lap. Minho clutched Noki tightly to his chest. 

 

“Tomorrow never came” 

 

Minho’s voice came out choked and barely understandable, but the words were there, and Minho realized for the second time that Jeongin and Felix were really dead. He had begun to fall back into the pit of disbelief, telling himself that Felix and Jeongin, his two best friends, weren’t actually dead but just off to college or on a trip like they always said they would go on. Minho didn’t want to believe it but he had to. For his sake and everyone else’s. 

 

“Minho? You’re back early -“ Woojin now stood in the doorway, halting when he saw Minho Leaned up against the kitchen cabinets and shaking like a leaf. “Oh no, what happened?” Woojin immediately fell to the ground to hold Minho close to his chest, rubbing his palm up and down his back. Whatever Minho had been saying was incoherent and blocked by his sobs, but he didn’t ever push Woojin away. Minho clutched onto Noki tightly but gently In case she wanted out, and simply leaned into Woojin’s touch. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Calm down. Just breathe.” Woojin hushed reassurances into Minho’s ears, but they fell onto deaf ones as the only way Minho calmed down was thirty minutes later and it was because he fell asleep. Woojin sighed and rubbed his hands into Minho’s tense shoulders to hopefully relax the muscle and it worked to a certain extent. 

 

Eventually, Woojin lifted Minho up and off of the ground to place him in his bed, the younger clutching onto him tightly despite being fast asleep. Even in his sleep, Minho found safety and comfort in Woojin. 

 

The elder lowered Minho onto the bed, deciding to change him out of his uncomfortable clothes and into something soft. So, a few minutes later, Minho was sporting a pair of sweatpants and one of Woojin’s shirts, the elder tucking Minho in under the covers before leaving the room completely. Minho would come to find him if he needed him, but for now, he just wanted to give him some space. 

 

But that didn’t last long. 

 

Woojin had just been on the brink of sleep when he felt someone lower themselves onto his body, head on his chest. “You left me.” It was quiet, vulnerable, broken, and all Woojin could do was apologize softly and run his fingers through Minho’s sweaty hair. 

 

“What can I do, honey?” 

 

“Can you just hold me for a while?” And Woojin didn’t reject. He draped his other arm across Minho’s upper back and buried his cheek into the top of his head. Minho intertwined their spare hands and they just laid like that for a while. They were scared, but it feels better biting down their fears rather than letting them run loose. 

  
  
  


The following morning, the two found themselves back in Minho’s bed with Minho’s head resting on Woojin’s chest. The younger had been tracing the tree running up Woojin’s side with the tips of his fingers to keep his mind off of Felix and Jeongin with his cheek squished unattractively against the skin underneath the right side of Woojin’s chest. Minho’s fingers eventually found it’s way to the bandages covering Woojin’s lower stomach and frowned a bit. “Hyung?” The elder hummed in acknowledgment, “what happened that night?” That wasn’t the question Minho wanted to ask, but he figured Woojin would be more open to answering this one than the other question he had. 

 

Woojin sighed and sat up, Minho sitting up as well and waiting for Woojin to situate himself against the headboard before Minho straddled his thighs and leaned his head against Woojin’s shoulder when the elder pulled him close. “Chan’s been dealing with this rival gang for a while. They’ve been causing him a lot of issues and he’s just trying to take them out so he can have some peace. But… we took out one of their guys the other night in the ring and they came after me.” Minho gulped, nuzzling his head into the side of Woojin’s face and gripping him a bit tighter. “Apparently that’s why Chan’s out of town. He’s ending it, so we should be safe.” Minho lifted his head away when Woojin said ‘we’ 

 

“Can I ask you another question?” Minho whispered, cupping Woojin’s jaw and leaning his face a bit closer. Woojin’s breath hitched in his throat, but he nodded his head anyway. “That night we hooked up… why did you ignore me?” Woojin didn’t say anything, “were you just there for the sex and then you were going to bail?” Woojin gulped at how hurt Minho sounded, and felt even more sorrowful when Minho backed away at his silence. “You were…” it wasn’t true. 

 

Minho had been halfway off the bed when Woojin grabbed his wrist and forced Minho to look him in the eye. Woojin found it hard to stare Minho in the eyes when he was just so hurt but it was all a misunderstanding and Woojin stayed strong and stern. “That’s not true. I just…” Woojin sighed and let go of Minho’s wrist, moving so his legs were over the side of the bed and his head was in his hands. “Fuck, Minho… you scare me. What you do to me scares me shitless.” Woojin hushed, glancing up at Minho’s figure still on the bed for only a few split seconds before he looked away again. “I don’t do love. I never have and I always told myself I never would, but…” Woojin paused when he felt the bed shift and dip beside him, and grabbed for Minho’s hand before he continued. “I think I’m willing to try for you because I love the way you make me feel even if it’s scary.” Woojin hushed and rubbed his thumb into Minho’s palm. 

 

Gentle, loving kisses were pressed into the middle of Woojin’s cheek over and over again, Woojin feeling the graze of Minho’s chin against his shoulder. “We don’t have to jump straight into this. We can start it slow and just figure it out as we go, hm?” Minho caressed the side of Woojin’s face with the front of his pointer finger as he rested his other arm along his shoulder. “Because I’m the exact same way, love.” Woojin felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah okay.” 

  
  
  
  


Heavy knocks came at the door of Minho’s apartment, Woojin padding down the hallway as he slipped a shirt over his head before opening the door without even peeking outside. He already knew it was Chan because he had spoken to him on the phone earlier, and didn’t even spare him a greeting as he left the door open for Chan to enter. “Well good morning to you too.” Chan sneered, shutting the door behind him. 

 

“You woke me up, there’s no such thing as good morning,” Woojin grumbled as he entered the kitchen and began to boil water for some tea. “So? Did you handle it?” Woojin uttered after a few moments of silence, wondering if he could finally leave this godforsaken apartment and live in the luxury of his own. 

 

“Yeah, I did. But for your own safety… I’m getting Minho and you a new place. Somewhere nicer and safer and I can keep a closer eye on you.” Woojin wasn’t sure why he really deserved a new place and voiced that openly. “Hyung, you took a bullet. You told me at the beginning that if you ever took a bullet for something like that, you would leave and never look back. But yet, here you are.” Chan uttered, “I think you deserve somewhere a bit nicer anyway. You’ve been loyal for a long time.” And Woojin couldn’t complain. “Now… where’s Minho? I need to speak with him.” 

 

“I’ll go get him. Here, make yourself useful and make three cups of tea.” Woojin teased and shoved a box of jasmine tea into Chan’s chest and padded into Minho’s bedroom quietly. Minho was curled around the pillow Woojin slept on last night and the covers were twisted around his body like a rope. “Min… Chan’s here. He wants to talk to you.” Woojin called out into the room softly and went to peel open the curtains so the late morning light flood in all at once. Minho let out a groan at the sudden light and turned away. “Min…” Woojin trailed off, sitting down on the edge of the bed where Minho laid and ran a hand across his face and along his hair. Minho slowly shifted his neck so he was facing Woojin, face squished unattractively But Woojin couldn’t help but coo. “Get up, darling.” 

 

Minho let out a few whimpers and whines, grabbing for the back of Woojin’s neck to pull him down for multiple, short pecks that made both of them laugh. Woojin was the one who separated, snarling his nose up in mock disgust and waving a hand in front of his nose. Minho glared and lifted his body up for just a few seconds to press a lingering kiss to his lips and even shoving his tongue into Woojin’s mouth jokingly. Woojin nudged him away with a groan of disgust. “Get up and brush your teeth.” 

 

“Five more minutes, love. Please.” Minho whined but Woojin knew Chan wouldn’t give him five seconds, much less five minutes. “Hyung!” Minho screeched, suddenly lifted out from underneath the covers and pulled into a strong chest so he was exposed to the cold air around him. Minho felt like Noki, just snuggling into Woojin’s chest to preserve warmth after being picked up from his warm, comfortable ball of sleep. “Please put me back in bed.” Minho clawed at the back of Woojin’s neck but the elder just guided them both down the hall and threw Minho down onto the couch. 

 

“There, Chan.” Woojin sighed and left the room to shower. 

 

Minho sunk into the couch and didn’t even search for Chan. He simply waited for the elder to show himself by lowering himself onto the couch beside Minho. “Hello again, dollface,” Chan grunted out as he sat down, straightening his suit jacket gently. “I have a proposal for you…” Chan trailed off with a mischievous smile and Minho’s stomach twisted with uneasiness. “You’ve been singing at my pub for a while… and you practically run the place already so how would you feel giving ownership a trial run, hm? Get out of this apartment and into a much nicer one with Woojin in the meantime?” 

 

Minho’s mouth fell open in shock, but it wasn’t as if he could say no to the offer. This was amazing for him, because maybe, and just maybe, Minho could eat bigger portions and treat Noki a bit better. She deserved a better home, she deserved to be pampered, and deep down, Minho knew he did too. “I - Are you being serious?” Minho stuttered, and Chan nodded with a smile. “Holy shit… Yeah, yeah I would love to.” Chan laughed a bit and nodded. 

 

“Good, good, I’m glad. Remember that this is just a test run though, the apartment thing comes with it. Once you’re tied to us, you’re tied to us, and you need to be of easier access to us if something happens. But we’ll discuss details later.” Chan uttered and Minho gulped, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. If he and woojin really did get serious… Minho would be tied to the Bang Family without another thought. But Woojin was worth it. God, he was so worth it. 

 

“Ok.” 

  
  
  


The stars above were gorgeous, but Minho’s mind had been anywhere but. Woojin was lying beside him, clutching his hand and holding it between them as he rested his head on his free arm. However, instead of staring up at the stars like he was supposed to, he was staring at Minho. “What are you thinking about, honey?” Woojin whispered, Minho’s eyes wavering but never looking at Woojin either. The elder sat up, turning to face Minho with a concerned look and resting his head on the palm of his propped up hand. “Come on, talk to me.” Woojin coaxed, rubbing his fingers into Minho’s hip bones. 

 

Minho sucked in a harsh breath. 

 

“I think innocence is life’s greatest illusion. I think from a young age we’re taught that purity is the one thing we should cherish most. We’re taught that the best part of who we are and what we are is the innocence we have as a child. But if you were to ask me if I think that the light in a child’s eyes was innocence, I would tell you that I think it’s naiveté. The world is too dark for innocence to exist, and love is just some sort of sick joke that brings more heartbreak later. I mean, sure, there’s light in this world, because hey, I’m still alive and I’m here with you. But after everything was ripped out from underneath my feet within seconds by another person… I’m just not too sure if innocence and purity exist anywhere in this fucked up hell of a world. And if there was any sort of innocence or love, it died with Jeongin and Felix four years ago”

 

For far too long had the deaths of Minho’s best friends consumed him, and Minho was done. He would always love Felix and Jeongin, and their deaths would always affect him, but he was tired of letting it consumed his life. He and Woojin were moving in together tomorrow, into a two bedroom penthouse where they could have some of their own personal space, but be close by and safe within arms reach. Minho ran a thriving pub and Noki was finally going to get the pampering she deserved. Minho was moving forward in life, and he realized that his hate for change was holding him back. 

 

To survive, one must learn to adapt. And Minho had to learn so he could be happy. 

 

“That’s fair to think, but I don’t think love is some sort of sick joke. At least not with soulmates.” Woojin didn’t have to say it outright, and perhaps it wasn’t even in his head at the time, but for Minho… Minho and Woojin just seemed to click. Minho would never help someone who looked as sketchy as Woojin did, but he did anyway and it was the best decision he had ever made. “I may not love you yet, but I don’t think I’d mind loving you in the future,” Woojin confessed into the night air above and Minho’s chest swelled.

 

“I don’t think I would either, hyung.” And their lips locked with haste.

 

The wind flew in Minho’s hair as they raced down the highway. The moon was high in the sky, the clock read 2:47 and cars were nowhere to be seen, but Minho didn’t have a care in the world. This felt so ungodly amazing to him, and he hadn’t felt this free in a long, long time. Minho let out a scream into the night sky, standing over the hood of the car and Woojin laughed from the driver's seat, speeding up a bit as Minho spread his arms out. It felt like time itself had slowed, and Minho felt alive. Woojin was the only one who could make him feel that way and Minho felt absolutely vulnerable to him. But even as his insecurities began as time passed over and over again, he bit them down because Woojin made him feel loved, as free as this car ride had. He bit them down into red and pink love marks, bruising kisses and I love yous. 

 

Biting down had never felt better. 

  
  
[Moodboard]


End file.
